


Another Hunt

by orphan_account



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: A big reason, Alastor is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), Blood, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Cannibalism Puns, Character Death, Gore, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Knives, Mouth Sewn Shut, Organs not in the body, Original Character Death(s), Pretty Fucked Up, Scissors being used wrong, scissors, torture?, why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21980254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Alastor was a serial killer and a cannibal.This was his game.(don't like gore don't read)
Relationships: no - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	Another Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> Some people seem to forget that Alastor is in hell for a reason, so here this is. If you are squeamish about gore, I dunno why you are here but you should probably leave. This is some pretty gore-y stuff that I hope you peeps'll enjoy!
> 
> Also, Body by mother mother is a cool song.
> 
> Also also, I did not proof read this so if there is some mistakes please do tell! 
> 
> If y'all really want more I can write more. I simply wrote this because I found the lack of hell-deserving Alastor immoral.

A girl stood at her door, waiting for a noise. She swore that she heard someone, _something_ , outside her door. The dreadful anticipation grew as she stood still, breathing as quietly as she could. Her shallow, slow breathing seemed monstrously loud in her adrenaline filled state, heart pounding louder than any hammer ever could. A few seconds passed, and then a minute without the sound returning. With a deep breath and a hand to her chest, she released the tension from her body, took a long blink to rearrange her thoughts, and went on her way. 

...

But what did she hear? What caused the nearly unnoticeable, completely unnerving noise?

She gently padded her way towards the front window, and peaked through the cracks between the curtains. There, in the darkness of the night, was no movement at all. The trees were still in the windless outside, no fireflies lighting the way for those lost, nothing whatsoever. But instead of feeling relief with the silence of the night, she felt an instinctual sense of overwhelming _wrongness_. The trees appeared skeletal, the moon like a giant dead eye peaking through their twig-like bones. The sky was starless, clouds consuming any light that could escape the endless void of space. The longer she stared out her window, the larger her feeling of wrongness grew. as soon as the moment came, it passed and she turned away from the window and marched into her kitchen. 

_A cup of tea soothes the soul of the restless, as my mother always said. Chamomile would do me good._

Searching through the cupboards, she failed to hear the noise return, three quick taps in succession. Again came the noise, which this time she heard. "I must really need that tea," she muttered under her breath, "before my fears get the best of me." She hurried her tea making process, not waiting for her water to boil completely. With lukewarm water in her deceased mother's tea pot, and two small tea bags, she was ready to run up the stairs to the safety of her bedroom. As soon as she was ready, there came the noise much, much louder. 

_Knock!_   
_Knock!_   
_Knock!_

...

_Knock!_   
_Knock!_   
_Knock!_

Time stood still as her racing heart pounded through her chest. Something about the knocking felt so horrendously off, but for the life of her she couldn't justify why.

_Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock!_

She ran to the front door, not one to leave someone outside during such a night of unease. As the knocking sped up, so too did her panicked thoughts and breaths, her actions becoming more clumsy as her mind swam in a sea of apprehension. As she opened the door, she closed her eyes, some wicked and cruel part of her wished for the being on the other side to be death itself, but when she opened them once again, she saw someone who looked far more afraid than she does herself.

"Please, will you help me hide? I've been running from something out there, s-something completely out of this world... "

Before she could fully comprehend what the stranger said, she automatically took a step back and let them in. The stranger, now that they were in the light, turned out to be a young man, one that could only be described as someone that was built to be a tall person, but seemed shrunk down into a more average height. He wore an outfit similar to the ones she saw the waiters in a fancy restaurant to celebrate her brother's marriage, although it appeared to be a deep black-like red. His hair was a deep shade of brown, unlike his eyes, which seemed to gleam almost red from the candles that illuminated her house. As he paced in the room, the feeling of wrongness never left her. 

She decided to ignore it, instead shoving it all away into a tiny box in the back of her mind as she put a small, but gentle smile on her face. The perfect mask for a perfectly normal night (something this night in particular was not). She wore it anyways.

"Do you want some tea? I was just making a batch of chamomile, it's great for calming a racing heart." 

The man took some deep breaths, looking out the same window she just earlier had herself. He gave a small nod of his head to let her know his answer as he continued to pacify his distress and compose himself. She left the room and head to her kitchen yet again, this time waiting until the water was nearly at a boil. Guests meant keeping up an appearance of care. As she added the tea bags to the cups and took out both some cream and some honey, she heard the man mutter nonsense to himself, likely some type of prayer to his god to thank for safety (religious was very popular, and praying even more so. Even if she herself didn't understand it, she wouldn't judge him for it). As she returned to the room, tea setup in hand, she looked over the odd man, trying to quickly scan whether it was safe for her to let him into her house. He suddenly turned towards her with a smile which widened when he spotted the steaming tea pot.

"Thank you so much for the help, darling! I'm sorry you had to see me in such a state, I promise it won't happen again!"

His voice sounded oddly familiar, like something she would hear from the radio while she does meaningless tasks. She shook the thought from her head and sat there, steeling herself for the following conversation. Something about his smile though, the way it seemed to glow as if it stole the stars from the sky made her wish to send the man out her door as soon as possible. Perhaps then the night would return to normal, and she wouldn't fear the unnaturally light-less sky outside. As she poured the tea into the two cups he seemed to catch the meaning of her silence, and turned his eyes away from hers and simply looked around her house uninterested in hearing a response from her. 

Once the tea had been poured and the man's curiosity quenched, the both sat in the flickering flame-lit room in (at least for her) awkward stillness. She drank her tea, paying no attention to her burning tongue and throat, hoping that the man would do the same himself. The grin on his face seemed only to widen as she burned herself, his ruby red eyes narrowing in thought, analyzing her thoroughly. 

"Perhaps now would be a good time to tell you, my dear, that the danger outside is gone."

His words brought her relief, thinking now this nameless man could leave her house. The vibes of wrongness only grew with his presence, which made her never want see or be near him ever again. And yet, despite this relief and his words of safety, the man didn't get up and leave. 

"Do you have a place I can go before I leave?" 

She nodded and told him to through the hallway, pass the kitchen entrance and take the door on the left. As he walked away, she failed to notice several very important details. First, he hadn't touched his tea at all, despite him seeming potentially excited at the thought of it earlier. Second, he didn't take a turn on the left, but instead went into her kitchen, and the sound of a door closing was not in fact a door. Lastly, that the sound of the oncoming foot steps was not just her paranoia but instead the smiling man. All these thoughts slammed into her in a moment of realization as she felt her newly sharped knife against her neck. 

"I must thank you for this excellent knife! The weight of it is absolutely sublime! The blade is so wonderfully sharpened, and so ready to slice something! Why, your neck looks like a perfect spot to cut, but you wouldn't want that, would you dear?"

A still as a rabbit trying to hide in plain sight, she held her breath as she heard his terrible words. The knife bit into her neck like a horrible promise of pain. He grabbed her shoulder and lead her out the front door, knife pressing against her neck with every step they took. As she opened the door, her gut fell through her stomach. She knew, oh how she knew, that she was absolutely 100% screwed. Her only hope now was that the smiling demon of a man would kill her fast and painless (she had no hope of escape. No neighbors nearby, and little strength to even try to defend herself). Once they reached the wild forest at the end of the road he whispered a single word in her ear and let her go.

"Run."

And run she did. Paying no head to the sticks and stones on the ground below, she ran as deep into the woods as she could, hoping that she could loose him quickly. She tripped and fell, and felt the vines of the plant she fell into curl around her limbs, trying to hold her down. She ripped them off and got up, trying to push away from and pull towards thinner tree trunks to aid her escape. She panted in effort, tears blurring away the already heard to see world around her. So focused was she on running, she didn't hear if the man was following her or not. Her foot gave out as she stepped in a small stream, sharp rocks digging into her skin. She attempted to keep running, but she was running out of steam. Her panicked state and adrenaline filled body was no match to years of inactivity and the absolute un-penetrable darkness of the night.

"Are you done, dear? I must admit you certain were very passionate playing your role of the hunt! Unfortunately, you are more boring than I thought you'd be, and certainly much dumber too. I hope you can redeem yourself and bring some me some entertainment tonight. Don't you agree?"

She shook her head rapidly, fear taking over every inch of her mind as he took out the knife yet again. The same knife that her brother got her to help her pursue her interest in cooking. The same knife she was so happy, so _excited_ to receive then, now being used to harm her both physically _and_ destroy one of her few happy memories. He pounced onto her, pinning her to the ground, staring into her soul with his terrible red eyes and his demonic grin. She looked around wildly, trying in vain to struggle out of his reach, screaming once she caught her breath. Her chest heaved with effort as her lungs worked overtime, attempting to buck him off of her. He slammed down his hand onto her mouth to stop her screaming, his eyes reflecting both great amusement and small hints of annoyance. She managed to bite his hand, making the man flinch in brief pain. She took the opportunity to scream for help, despite knowing deep down inside no one would come to save her. He roughly grabbed her chin and opened her mouth, the moonlight bouncing off of the knife alerting her of the blade's presence.

"I think we both know what should go first, don't we? Those pesky screams of yours might get someone's attention, and we don't want anything to ruin such wonderful entertainment, do we my dear?"

His eyes narrowed in both anger and focus and he maneuvered the blade into her mouth and grabbed her tongue with his other hand. He looked her in the eyes as he sneered.

"What do you think? You won't miss this one bit, will you?"

His grip on her tongue tightened as he pulled the knife through it. She attempted to scream in pain, which only lead to her jaw opening even farther, aiding the man in tearing out her tongue. She saw in his terrible ruby red eyes with wicked enjoyment at holding her bloody tongue in her hand, one of the last things she saw fully before the pain became unbearable. Each harsh breath she took burned against the stump in her mouth, blood pouring out of the wound, leaking in her throat and out her mouth. his grin widened as she struggled to breath through all the blood in her mouth, her absolute horror at losing an important muscle.

While she was distracted by the pain, he turned and grabbed some meat hooks from the previously unnoticed bag of his. He looked her right in the eyes to watch all her hope and dreams drain from her soul, filling him with a sense of power. He grabbed her arm, completely ignoring her weak attempts of pulling it away, and made a small slice in her forearm. He placed the knife beside him, picked up the meat hook and _rammed_ it into the cut, pushing it increasingly towards the other side until it broke the skin. He proceeded to replicate the administration to the other arm, and then grab rope to tie to the other sides of the hooks. He then tied them to opposing trees, forcing her arms to stay wide open. Her kicking slowed down due to the movement shifting the hooks in her arms, each time more blood splurged out. 

"Silly me, I forgot to introduce myself! I'm Alastor, and it certainly is _knife_ to _meat_ you!"

He laughed and waited. Apparently, her garbled whimpers of pain wasn't the reaction he wanted. He rolled his eyes at her lack of reaction to his words and pulled out some sharpened scissors. 

"I've never had the chance to do this, so I guess I'll have to _cut_ to the chase!"

He went over to her left hand and pulled her pinky finger away from the rest , lining up the scissors and _snipping_ right through the webbed skin. Blood slowly dripped out from the two, now useless, flaps of skin. He then did the same to the webbing between the rest of the fingers of that hand. For the thumb webbing, he made two cuts, one next to the finger and another by the thumb, cutting out a triangle of webbing flesh from her hand. He then took out a small bag from his other bag. It landed with a small splat sound in the bottom of the small bag. The woman looked up at him in horror as he eyed her other hand, scissors ready to cut more webbing. Her lack of loud noises, however, stopped him.

He grabbed the knife again and gently pulled up her shirt, revealing the bare skin of her abdomen. He slid the knife into her skin, small beads of blood following the knife's path. Once he got a good area cut open, he pulled up the flap of skin, revealing her pulsing organs. He pulled out part of the intestine and watched it try to wiggle back into place. He did this a few times in amusement before cutting a huge chunk out and throwing it onto the ground. It wiggled and pulsed, blood and other liquids dripping out and pooling around it. He reached in and grabbed her liver, wiggling the knife in so he could cut what held the liver in. He pulled it out and held it in it's bloody, fleshy glory as he giggled to himself.

"Well, I had doubts earlier, but you certainly de- _liver_ -ed the entertainment!"

He threw the liver in the small bag, it making a moist _slap_ noise when it landed. He rummaged around in her abdomen carefully, taking out the appendix once checking she was still alive. He placed the skin flap back to cover the cavity and took out a simple sowing needle and thread from his large bag. As he threaded the needle through the eye, the woman gained some consciousness and watched Alastor in morbid curiosity. Once he was done, he started to sew her mouth together, a relatively painless process compared to earlier, but one that once done, left her in greater pain. She just wanted to slip away, which involved some instinctual screaming which is something she couldn't do without considerable pain, or ripping the strings apart. Alastor smile increased in size as he watched her struggle as he put away the needle and thread. He grabbed the scissors yet again and brought it to her eye. He gently grabbed the eyelid and pulled it back, readying the scissors and quickly snipping through the flesh. He looked at it contemplatively, deciding to cut off the eyelash-connecting skin. he looked over the piece of skin, making sure it suited his standards. and promptly popped it into his mouth. 

He made another cut on her chest this time, opening up the skin. Be carefully cut away muscles and tendons, and broke out some bones with loud _snap_ noises until he reached his prize. The blood leaking out of the hole's walls was thick with coagulants, and a deep ruby red. Alastor dipped his finger into the ever increasing pool of blood and tasted it, joy and hunger vivid in his eyes. He did this a few times more, licking off the blood from his fingers, practically scooping some in before he cleared his mind. once he took some of the blood out from the chest cavity, he could see. There laid her beating, pulsing heart. He gently, like a parent tucking a child up in blankets, placed the skin flap over the cut to cover it, leaving the heart to be removed near the end.

Finally, with the woman's life nearly done, reached into his bag and grabbed a butcher's carving knife. He stood over her legs as he hacked away at her knee joints, thick blood splashing out of the wound and onto both himself and the ground around her. He grabbed the lower part of her right leg as he cut the skin off and away of the knee, the bone breaking when he pulled it away. He skinned a small portion of the left meat and took a chunk out, cutting into her stomach and placing it in, letting her last moments of life be self-cannibalization. Once he was sure she was dead, he cut out the rest of the organs, placing them into his small bag. He took a jar from his big bag and set it aside as he put chunks of meat in the waterproof bag. He untied the rope from the trees and threw them over a branch, pulling her body up and away from the ground. He dumped the jar filled with maggots onto the ground and filled it back up again with her blood. He cut off the rest of her right leg, and then her left, taking all the meat and bones. the maggots on the ground all crawled into the ever growing puddle of blood on the forest floor as Alastor finished harvesting from her body. He took out her eyes and skinned her face so she couldn't be identified and threw it to the maggot pile, letting them eat it away. 

This was his favorite part removing the heart. To him, the heart is one of the most delicious parts of the body. The heart, when prepared correctly, is very tender and filled with explosive flavors added by the tasteful fat. The heart also was like a soul, the being of a person. Eating the heart was not only delicious, but gave Alastor such a immoral feeling of power, it was delectable. Extremely gently, he took out her heart and cradled it in his hand. He placed it down in the far of blood as if it was made of glass. He sealed the jar tightly and placed it gently in his large bag of meat. The meat hug around it like protection, a crude imitation of life's design.

He stood up and sighed in satisfaction. Another hunt completed, the urge to kill out of the way once more. Alastor was so thrilled at the amount of bones he managed to preserve, enough to make some proper broth without bone shards! The selection of meat he got was a steal! The woman, he never got her name, stayed relatively still throughout the process, leaving him with some delectable meat cuts. Once cooked and seasoned, they were absolutely to _die_ for! He ripped out the meat hooks from her arms and wrapped them up in the rope, what remained of her body he placed with the maggots and covering them with dirt. Once all his things were gathered and packed, he walked away whistling a cheerful tune.


End file.
